The Last Time I Came O’er The Moor
1793
Type: Poem
The last time I came o’er the moor,
And left Maria’s dwelling,
What throes, what tortures passing cure,
Were in my bosom swelling:
Condemn’d to see my rival’s reign,
While I in secret languish;
To feel a fire in every vein,
Yet dare not speak my anguish.
Love’s veriest wretch, despairing, I
Fain, fain, my crime would cover;
Th’ unweeting groan, the bursting sigh,
Betray the guilty lover.
I know my doom must be despair,
Thou wilt nor canst relieve me;
But oh, Maria, hear my prayer,
For Pity’s sake forgive me!
The music of thy tongue I heard,
Nor wist while it enslav’d me;
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear’d,
Till fear no more had sav’d me:
The unwary sailor thus, aghast,
The wheeling torrent viewing,
‘Mid circling horrors yields at last
To overwhelming ruin.
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Robert Burns, (born January 25, 1759, Alloway, Ayrshire, Scotland—died July 21, 1796, Dumfries, Dumfriesshire), national poet of Scotland. He wrote lyrics, ballads and songs in Scots and in English. He was also notable for his amorous adventures and his rebellion against religion and morality.